


& i would worship at your altar

by SOMNlARl



Series: Kinkmeme Prompts [1]
Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Caring, Comfort, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-13 05:31:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3369641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SOMNlARl/pseuds/SOMNlARl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taking a quick break from the <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/3308579/chapters/7227695">fic of doom</a> to fill a <a href="http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/13275.html?thread=50601435#t50601435">LJ kinkmeme prompt</a>; </p><p> </p><p>  <i>So if other Inquisitors are anything like mine, then they take Dorian with them almost everywhere. I really want something where the Inquisitor takes Dorian along for pretty much every mission and Cullen is left back in Skyhold to worry. When the party comes back Cullen takes Dorian up to his bed and spends as much time as possible going over every inch of him to make sure he’s okay and kissing any of his bruises and just making it all about Dorian feeling good.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	& i would worship at your altar

Cullen hated it when Dorian was away. Lately it seemed as though he was gone more often than not, always off traveling with the Inquisitor. Cullen understood, truly he did; Dorian was a mage of formidable talents, he could hardly blame Trevelyan for wanting her best fighters around her but still, he missed him. Skyhold seemed somehow less impressive without him there, as though the walls were crumbling with disrepair, and certainly it was quieter. The days dragged by and though there were was always something to be done - repairs to make, meetings to attend, new recruits to train well enough that they might at least not endanger the rest of the forces with their blundering - he found his thoughts always drifting back to Dorian. Worrying about him, if he was being honest with himself. He could just imagine Dorian’s face if he ever admitted it out loud, the easy smirk that would curl at his lips, how the mage would dismiss his worries with a witty retort and change the subject quickly, too quickly; he always was uncomfortable with Cullen’s sincerity, the earnestness he couldn’t seem to hold back. 

And when he worried he paced, the leather of his boots wearing a path in the floorboards behind his desk. He brought a bottle of Dorian’s favorite wine up from the cellar, he shelved and reshelved the books in his little library, then started again. By subject, then by title, by author and back again. It took up time that would otherwise be spent worrying - imagining Dorian surrounded by Red Templars, dodging a dragon’s fire, crushed by a giant’s fist or even just mauled by a bear - shelving was mindless, a familiar drudgery. But Dorian, and the Inquisitor of course, were due back today from the Western Approach and every hour he waited for the familiar clang of the gates rising felt like an age. It was mid-afternoon before he heard it and he ran out the far door, nearly knocking over a freckled young scout who had just entered to drop off a pile of missives. Cullen called a quick apology over his shoulder but didn’t stop to make sure she was alright, taking the stairs down to the courtyard two at a time. He arrived just as the group rode in; Trevelyan first with Sera behind her, clinging to her waist - the elf never had grown comfortable on a horse of her own - then the Iron Bull, oversized axe slung across his back and then Dorian. He approached Trevelyan first as was only proper, offering a hand to her as she dismounted. 

“Good mission, my lady?” He turned to Sera and she clung to him, bony fingers digging into his shoulders until her feet touched the ground; she shot him a cheeky grin, stuck out her tongue and ran off towards the tavern. 

“Good enough, I suppose. We secured Griffon Wing Keep, Captain Rylen’s out there now to sort everything out. No luck with the Wardens yet though, we’ll have to go back soon.”

“And there was a dragon! Have I mentioned lately that you’re the best, boss?” Bull crowed, sliding off his horse with an elegance at-odds with his massive frame. 

“A dragon? You didn’t say anything about a dragon! Is anyone hurt?” Cullen asked, looking back at Trevelyan accusingly. Of course she’d gloss over it, Inquisitor or no the woman had little sense of danger, always running into battle with little thought and no strategy. 

“We’re fine, Commander. Nothing beyond the usual. Now if you’re quite done fretting? I have a date with a blonde and I don’t just mean a pint.” She handed the reins off to a waiting stable boy and left, a bit too quickly for subtlety, for the tavern. 

Finally free from his responsibilities he turned to Dorian, smile spreading across his face as he stopped at the side of his horse and took his hand, brushed his thumb over Dorian’s knuckles and raised his hand to his lips for a quick kiss before he helped his lover down from his horse. For once he didn’t mind who saw; he was beyond such concerns now, only caring that Dorian was home - _home_ , strange to feel that way he thought with both of them so far from where they’d been raised - and safe within his arms. 

Back in his office Cullen locked the doors behind them and removed his gloves, folding them neatly before placing them on the edge of his desk and poured two glasses of wine from the bottle waiting on his desk. He handed one to Dorian who sniffed at it appreciatively and took a long, slow drink, draining the glass dry. As the mage drank Cullen slipped out of his armor into nothing but his smallclothes and the simple linen tunic he always wore beneath his layers of steel and leather; he smiled as he felt Dorian’s eyes upon him

“A fine Ghislain and no pants? My, my _Commander_ , you do know how to welcome a man home. I’m shocked, surely they didn’t teach you this at the Ch…” Cullen cut off his words with a soft, slow kiss, gently parting Dorian’s lips with his tongue, his hands raking softly through his hair. 

“I missed you. I always miss you when you’re away.” Cullen whispered, turning his attention to the man’s neck, brushing at his skin with his lips. He kissed him again, just at the spot where his neck met his shoulders, first softly then all teeth and bruising lips, his hands cupping the swells of Dorian’s ass. He nipped lightly at Dorian’s earlobe, teasing at it with his teeth until he elicited a soft moan. Dorian pulled away slightly, wincing as he turned to fill his glass again. 

“You’re hurt!” Cullen exclaimed, cupping Dorian’s face in his hands, searching for any obvious signs of injury but finding nothing. “Up to bed, come on. I'll make it better.” 

“It’s nothing, Cullen. I promise. It’s all the Bull’s fault really, if he hadn’t stumbled into me while I was casting…” Dorian argued half-heartedly but didn’t resist as Cullen steered him towards and up the ladder. “ _Fasta vass!_ ” he hissed as he climbed upwards. “Always with the ladders! What is it with you and the South and bloody ladders? They were everywhere in the Approach… what sort of sadist builds ladders all over a blighted, sand-infested, Maker-forsaken desert?” His shoulder ached horribly as he pulled himself up each rung, Bull had been thrown back into him by a terror demon that had appeared out of nowhere, he’d wrenched his arm nearly of out socket trying to keep from falling. 

Dorian leaned back against the wall, meeting the commander’s concerned gaze. “I’m fine, really, Cullen. Can’t we just…” He was silenced by another kiss as Cullen turned his attention to his hands, rubbing softly at each knuckle and slipping each gold ring off slowly, one by one, placing each on the small crate serving as a table beside his bed. The warrior eased off his soft leather gauntlets, taking a moment to circle his hands around the mage's wrists and slowly stroke his fingers up Dorian’s forearms, teasing out an appreciative shiver. He could feel Dorian tremble at his touch, just barely, knees weak under his ministrations. Cullen smiled, moving his hands up to skillfully untie the knots at the shoulder of Dorian’s armor, easing it gently over the mage’s head before setting it softly down on the floor. 

Cullen curled his hands around Dorian’s hips, moving his lips down the mage’s chest; a kiss here, a grazing of teeth there and he smirked as Dorian made a small noise that was half frustration and half pleasure. “Please…” Dorian murmured, throwing his head back against the wall, eyes half-lidded. 

“You are so beautiful, did you know that?” Cullen whispered into the mage’s chest, tongue flicking lightly at one dusky pink nipple. His hands moved lower, tugging at Dorian’s breeches until with one slow roll of the mage’s hips they fell to the floor. On his knees now he worked his way down Dorian’s body, kissing slowly down his taut abdomen, tongue trailing down to the divot where the swell of the mage’s hip met leanly muscled thigh. He pulled away for a moment - his hands on Dorian’s hips, pushing him back against the wall, taking a moment to admire his lover’s body; his skin rich and dark, like fine whiskey, the barely-visible scar that arced up his torso from his hipbone, the cluster of freckles - scattered like constellations - that dusted his shoulder where his armor didn’t cover his skin. 

Cullen sat him down gently on the edge of the bed, kneeling before the mage’s feet, fingers deftly working at the laces of his boots. He pulled one off and then the other, then his breeches, taking Dorian’s feet into his hands, circling the calloused pads of his thumbs deep into the mage’s arches. 

“So perfect, Dorian. You are magnificent, every inch of you.” 

“Cullen, you don’t need to…” Dorian gasped softly as Cullen trailed his fingers up his soles and let them come to rest between his toes, massaging softly, his mouth following close behind, dotting soft kisses up his arches and onto the tips of his toes. 

Cullen shushed him, raising a finger to rest gently at the tip of Dorian’s lips. “I want to. Please? Just let me do this.” Before he pulled away he pressed another kiss to Dorian’s lips, a jolt of warmth shot through the mage’s body as he closed his eyes. 

His mouth slid up Dorian’s calf, rubbing at the swollen muscles with his hands while his lips moved slowly up his upper thigh, kissing and licking at his skin, coming to rest at a bruise splayed across his hip. Cullen trailed his fingers over it lightly, not wanting to hurt, then bent back down to kiss at Dorian’s purpled skin. 

“All better now. Can we…?” Dorian bucked his hips, trying to get up but Cullen was straddling him now, holding him down against the bed. 

“Patience, my love” Cullen answered, fingers pulling at Dorian’s smalls who lifted his hips in response, allowing him to tug them to the floor. Cullen pushed his lover softly back onto the bed, rested his head against the pillows and stared down at him reverently. He wanted to worship him as though he were a devotee on a pilgrimage, savoring every moment like a prayer whispered at a long-forgotten altar. 

“Do you have any idea what it’s like, never knowing if you’re safe? I just wish I could come with you, protect you from everything you have to face. Every time you return to me it's like I've been granted a miracle, one I don't deserve.” Cullen buried his face in the crease where Dorian’s hip met his leg, kissing and licking at Dorian’s skin, breathing in the scent of his lover until he was drunk with it; all heady incense, spice and smoke and something faintly herbal, bitter and fresh keeping him tethered to reality. 

“Amatus, I… please… I need you.” Dorian whimpered, mewling softly under the agonizingly slow touches Cullen was tracing around his hardening cock. 

Cullen raised himself up on his elbows, letting his stomach drag softly over the length of Dorian’s cock. He leaned in to kiss Dorian, biting at his lower lip then moving back down his chest just as the mage reached out to thread his hands through his curls. 

“Not yet. Just let me look at you.” Cullen rocked back on his hips, slipped his shirt off and let it fall to the ground. He rested his forehead softly against the mage’s. “You’re magnificent. How did I get so lucky?” 

“ _Venhedis!_ If you don’t hurry up you may remember what it’s like to be unlucky...”

Cullen laughed softly and pressed his hands against Dorian’s wrists, holding them tight where they were resting just above his head. “I love you, Dorian. I missed you. I need you.” His warm breath tickled at Dorian’s ear and he squirmed under the sensation, arching his back to try to escape. 

He kissed back down the mage’s chest, covering every inch of him, anything to try to heal the small, nagging hurts of battle he remembered all too well. His hands came to rest at the base of Dorian’s cock, licking at the bead of precum glistening at the head, smiling softly at the way Dorian twitched under him. One hand cupped at the mage’s tightening balls, the other reached around to run fingernails up the small of his back and he took Dorian’s length into his mouth until his cock hit the back of his throat. Sucking and licking softly Cullen looked up at his lover, his eyes closed, lips ever-so-slightly open with pleasure, panting softly. He flicked lightly at the head of Dorian’s cock with his tongue, grazing lightly at the underside with his teeth then pulled away again. 

“So beautiful” he whispered as Dorian whined, reaching for his shoulders to push him back down. “You are so beautiful and so perfect and _all mine_.” Cullen took him back into his mouth, moving up and down his shaft slowly then speeding up, tonguing at his cock until it twitched and Dorian reached his orgasm, crying out softly, spilling into his waiting mouth. He swallowed him back slowly, his tongue savoring every drop of the sweet bitterness of him. 

He looked up and Dorian was… blushing. “Aren’t I supposed to be the one embarrassed in these situations?” Cullen teased, resting his forehead against the mage’s chest. 

Dorian yawned and raised himself up to kiss the top of Cullen’s head, fingers teasing lightly through the blond’s hair. “Perhaps. I suppose you’re just a dreadful influence on me, Amatus” he mumbled sleepily. 

“All better?” Cullen asked, running his hands back up the length of Dorian’s torso. 

“Much. You’re wasted on leadership, _Commander_. You make a much better healer,” the mage murmured, struggling to keep his eyes open against the call of dreams. 

Cullen chuckled and rolled over, pulling Dorian close into his chest. He reached around with one arm for the blankets, pulling the covers over both of them. 

“Sleep, my love. And perhaps we’ll see what more I can for you in the morning.”

**Author's Note:**

> Talk Cullrian with me on [tumblr](http://xhermionedanger.tumblr.com). Or prompt me. Whatever.


End file.
